


Let Him Eat Cake

by FailureArtist



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Baking, F/M, Fluff, Food, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 05:37:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6106621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FailureArtist/pseuds/FailureArtist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every fanfic writer will make a sick fic at least once in their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Him Eat Cake

The Grand Highblood was no stranger to pain. He had fought in many battle and received injuries that might have killed lesser trolls. Yet a microscopic enemy had laid waste to him. The enemy had forced his body to raise his temperature to an uncomfortable degree and fill his nasal-throat canal with disgusting mucus. His whole body ached from the ravages of the virus, from his teeth to his toes. He almost wished the Mirthful Messiahs would take him away to the Paradise Planet right now. However, his medicullers said that despite him feeling like he was a death’s door, he would recover in a few nights. The Grand Highblood believed them not because he had great faith in medical science but because he knew this couldn’t be the way a warrior like him would die.

So he gave himself some nights off and holed up in his respiteblock with a medicocoon, a pound of tissues, and a couple jugs of synthetic orange juice. Luckily for him, it was a slow time for the Laughassassins. The last target planet had been conquered and wiped out. The Empire was calm. There were no pressing matters and any matter that did come up could be handled by his deputy. All the Grand Highblood had to do for the next few nights was sit around in sopor slime.

He was thinking about what evil miracle could make him feel feverish and chilled at the same time when the intercom came on.

“Your Capriciousness?” came the voice of the Grand Highblood’s receptionist.

The Grand Highblood winched at the voice like needles in his aural canal. He wondered if he should kill the receptionist just for the receptionist’s obnoxious reedy voice but decided against it. Instead, he took his arm out of the thick sopor slime and slammed his hand on a button next to his cocoon.

“I told you not to contact me UNLESS IT’S THE EMPRESS.”

“Well...it is the Empress.”

The Grand Highblood groaned. He knew he’d have to let her in. Still, he delayed the moment for two whole minutes.

“Your Capriciousness?” the receptionist repeated, “Her Imperious Condescension is threatening to kill me.”

The Grand Highblood finally pushed the button again. “Send her in.”

“Yes, your Capriciousness.”

It took some time to get from his front desk to his respiteblock but the Grand Highblood did nothing during the wait. His hair was damp and limp, his face was bare, and he was naked in the slime but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He figured Meenah would forgive him.

When she finally came in, she didn’t look her impeccable newsreel self. She looked sweaty and her hair was in braids. Over her bodysuit she wore a sequined apron that said “KNEEL BEFORE THE COOK”. The Grand Highblood could tell what she had been doing. Still, he asked the question.

“What business you have for me, Meenah?”

“Can’t a moreyail visit her moreyail when he’s krunk?”

“I’d feel better IF YOU LEFT.”

“Fishshit yah would. Yah need me.”

The Grand Highblood groaned. She would not leave until she wanted to.

She walked around the block, her nose crinkled. “It’s a mess in here. There’s this weird sweaty smell.”

“Well, I’ve been sick.”

“Couldn’t you have a cleanin’ slave clean up your block?”

“I didn’t want to be DISTURBED by a slave.”

“True, cleanin’ slaves can get in your hair.”

She walked up to the read-out of the medicocoon.

“Do you reely need this?” she asked, “You just have the troll rhinovirus.”

“I have troll INFLUENZA.”

She shrugged. “Same diff. Yah ain’t gonna die. I won’t let yah.”

“What, are you gonna give me THE KISS OF LIFE?”

She looked over at her moirail in disgust. “Yah knoll I can only give that to one glubber at a time. Plus, I wouldn’t ever kiss yah.”

“It was A JOKE.”

She turned from frowning to smiling. “Instead, I’m gonna give yah somefin that’s almost as good, palemate.”

The Grand Highblood raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“First yah gotta get out of that unnecessarily-complicated recupercoon.”

“But I’M NAKED in here.”

“So? I’ve seen yah naked before.” She looked thoughtful for a moment before walking over to his closet. “But I’ll get yah a robe anywave.”

She brought him a robe. He took off the sensors and lifted himself out of the cocoon. In doing so, he showed her what millions dreamed of seeing. (She had in turn on occasion shown him what billions dreamed of seeing.) Taken the robe from her hand, he covered himself up.

“So what you got for me?” he asked.

She grinned huge. A dubstep sound came out as she took out from her sylladex a cake the size of both her rumblespheres. The sweet smell of cake filled the block.

“A hive-made five-laver cake!” she cried out, “The first laver is cheesecake, seacond laver is fudge, third laver is oil cake, fourth laver is butter cake, fifth laver is marzipan, the frostin’ is cream cheese colored with Faygo, the sprinkles are miniature horns, and the entire fin is on one giant cookie.”

The sick troll could barely follow what she said. He only knew the cake was way too complicated.

“I’ll put it in the fridge,” the Grand Highblood said.

“Ya ain’t not gonna leave this cake to go stale in the fridge. Besides, it won’t fit.”

“You should have made it SMALLER.”

“I don’t do ANYFIN small.”

He groaned.

His moirail pushed the cake into his chest. “Ya gonna eat this cake NOW.”

He backed off. “I can’t eat this now! I CAN BARELY KEEP DOWN NUTRITION BARS.”

“That’s because those bars are nasty ass. Nobody could get sick on this sweet fin.”

“How would you know? YOU NEVER GET SICK.”

“But if I was weak enuff to get krunk like yah mortals, I would love the fuck out of this a cake.”

“But you don’t get sick AND YOU DON’T KNOW YOU CAN’T EAT THE MOTHERFUCKING SWEET when your food sac is in OPEN REVOLT.”

“But this ain’t your cheap-ass artificial fructose excrement. This is the reel sugar from the cane. With REEL eggs and REEL butter and REEL moobeast milk.”

“My food sac can’t handle ANY OF THAT.”

“It’s also got your stupid Faygo in it. I’ve met yah halfway, soda worshipper.”

He held up his hands. “I’m sure it’s the most MOTHERFUCKING MIRACLE CAKE but I ain’t in the...”

“You bet yo clown ass it’s the most ‘miracle’ cake. I spent ten hours makin’ that confection! Me, an empress, slavin’ awave in a prepblock! All for my ungrateful morayell! Do yah think that recently krilled empress would do that for her subjects?”

“The NEUTER MONARCH was a fucking SENTIENT ROCK. Motherfucker’s subjects DIDN’T EAT FOOD.”

“But would she if she cod? Hmmm? Anywaves, as my morayeel, yah are honor-bound to eat my cookin’.”

“And I can eat it LATER when I’m not SICK.”

“But who knolls when that will be? This cake might make yah get well faster. Maybe my batterwitch powers will rub off. Hey, maybe a MIRACLE will happen.” She winked.

He sighed and took the cake. “Okay, I’ll take eat it.”

“I knew you’d obey me eventually.”

He turned around and walked the cake to his medicoon. “IN MY COON.”

“What? Yah can’t eat in the coon...yah’ll-“

He tipped the cake over and it fell into the sopor slime.

“- yah idiot!” his moirail cried.

He turned and shrugged. “Oops.”

She poked him with her claw. “Yah TOTALLY did that on PORPOISE, yah ungrateful scum! I am takin’ that cake out of yo salary.”

“You pay me billions of caegars, I WON’T NOTICE.”

“Keep this up and yah’ll get less than a cleanin’ slave.”

“You can’t get a new Grand Highblood LIKE YOU CAN GET A NEW CLEANING SLAVE.”

“Yeah, I’m stuck with yah, don’t rub it in.”

“And I’m stuck with you. AIN’T NO HEIRESS WILL EVER TAKE YOUR ASS DOWN.”

She patted his check. “Yah betta believe it.”

He smiled at her. Despite it all, his headache was lessening.

“Well, I got fins to do,” she said after a moment.

“How many motherfucking cakes ARE YOU GONNA BAKE?”

“Nah, not that, this is serious biz. There’s this planet I’m interested in. It’s in this lifeless solar system, eight or nine planets, but it’s got a lot of water. Like seventy fucking percent water.”  
  
“Hmm, that does sound PROMISING.”

“I’ll tell yah more when yah get betta.”

“Looking forward to that,” the Grand Highblood said earnestly.

“And bake yah another cake.”

The Grand Highblood groaned at that.

“Bye bye, Mackerel!” she yelled as she left.

“Bye, Meenah!”

When she left, he went back to the medicoon. He managed to fish the cake out of the slime and put it on a table. He wiped his finger along a slime-free side and tasted the frosting. It was a miracle. It wasn’t so delicious he would risk getting sick, but it was delicious. Perhaps he could look forward to getting another cake later. Well, maybe one with less layers.

**Author's Note:**

> Would that cake work? Well, she is the Batterwitch.


End file.
